


The Academic Writings of Albus Dumbledore, as Annotated by Gellert Grindelwald

by IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus publishes too many journal articles, M/M, Nerds in Love, POV Vinda, and Gellert can't stop obsessing over them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis/pseuds/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis
Summary: Vinda doesn't need for Albus and Gellert to get back together. She just needs Gellert to stop sending her on near daily errands to the bookstore.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald (past)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 111





	The Academic Writings of Albus Dumbledore, as Annotated by Gellert Grindelwald

It was a woman who met her as she approached the great doors of the castle. She didn’t give her name, but her name wasn’t important to Vinda. She was there for one person only.  
“I am here to see Albus Dumbledore.”  
“Professor Dumbledore is a very busy man. He does not have time to see every –“

“I am Vinda Rosier.”  
The Witch paused and started to open the door a bit wider as if she was going to let Vinda enter, but then she began to close the door again.  
“Anyone can _say_ they’re a Rosier.”

“Please. Tell him I am here on behalf of his old friend Meinrad. I imagine he will want to see me. May I wait inside, please? It is very cold.”  
The Witch eyed Vinda suspiciously. “You’re a Witch. Use a warming charm,” she growled, and shut the door on Vinda.

An hour later, Vinda was still standing there, when a group of students walked up.  
“Why are you waiting outside?” the smallest boy asked.  
A girl standing beside him whacked him on the arm and hissed, “Don’t be rude!”  
“I’m just asking…” he protested.

Vinda smiled. “I haven’t been invited in yet.”  
The girl huffed. “Speaking of rude…”  
Then she addressed Vinda. “You may come in with us. My name is Heloise Malfoy.”  
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Malfoy. My name is Vinda Rosier.”  
“They left a _Rosier_ standing in the cold?”  
“Yes, but much more importantly than that, they left a _Witch_ standing in the cold. All magical people are deserving of more respect than that.”

Heloise seemed to think about that for a moment, then remembered herself.  
“My apologies. Please come in, Miss Rosier.“  
One of the older boys opened the door, and they all waited for Vinda to precede them in.

“Why are you here?” the small boy asked.  
Heloise seemed about to hit him again so Vinda smiled and shook her head at her. “I don’t mind. I am here to see Professor Dumbledore. I know an old friend of his.”  
“I can take you to him!” one of the older boys offered. 

Vinda was used to this kind of behaviour – men often tried to outdo one another in 'helping' her. She wasn’t above using anything, including her looks, to get what she wanted, but what this young man was suggesting was likely to be counterproductive.  
“That’s kind of you, but I would hate to interrupt the Professor if he is busy. Perhaps you could tell him for me that I am here to discuss his old friend Meinrad? Where do you suppose I should wait for him?”  
“The library is perhaps best,” Heloise suggested. She offered to show Vinda, and the eager young man walked off as fast as he could without being accused of running. She had only just removed her coat when he returned to escort her to Professor Dumbledore’s office.

***

Vinda and Albus sat facing one another, his desk between him.  
“After all these years… what does Gellert want?”  
“Right now, I am the one sitting across from you, so your concern is meant to be with what I want. Although the speed with which you let me in with no information beyond his middle name tells me that you are as obsessed with him as he is with you, so I will excuse the breach in hospitality.”

Albus narrowed his eyes at her. She had moved too quickly… the use of the word ‘obsessed’ had perhaps been – premature.  
“And what do you want, Miss Rosier?”  
“Madam Rosier, actually. I just completed my Mastery in Arithmancy, Professor Dumbledore. I am a woman of intelligence, and Gellert is using me as a mere delivery owl. What I want is to stop being sent out to buy these every few days.”

Vinda drew out of her purse several tiny books, each smaller than a snuff box. She waved her wand over them, and they became a messy pile of academic journals:  
_Transfiguration Today, Advances in Alchemy, The Practical Potioneer, Challenges in Charming, Dark Creature Quarterly, Die Magie in Südamerika…_

Albus smiled sadly, and murmured, “Ah, still interested in Cross-Cultural Magical Studies. I wonder –“  
Vinda interrupted his musing, speaking in a firm, even impatient tone. “Professor Dumbledore. Every time a new issue of _any_ academic journal is published, whether in French or English or German, Gellert requires me to purchase it that day. I am sure you are aware of exactly how many journals there are, given that you have published at least one article in each of them. If you were not so – diverse in your research and expertise…”  
“I still don’t understand...”

“Perhaps you will understand this.”  
Vinda picked up one of the journals, turned to the table of contents, and thrust the journal at Albus. Printed under the title of one of the articles was the name Albus Dumbledore. It had been circled in green ink. She then turned to the article in question and handed it to Albus. She didn’t need to look at it to know what he would find. They were all the same – each page covered in ink – some items underlined and others crossed out, the margins filled with angry rebuttals, occasionally punctuated by a grudging, ‘brilliant.’

Albus looked up angrily. “What he suggests is implausible! If anything, Ruskin’s experiments have clearly demonstrated –“  
Vinda held up her hand.  
“That is not why I’m here. I will not be an owl between the two of you for your arguments over…” she took the journal from him “the optimal way to prepare billywig stings?”  
Vinda sighed and tossed the journal back onto the pile. 

“No. I am here because several times a week I go out, I purchase a journal, and I bring it back to Gellert. He immediately goes to the table of contents. And then he does one of two things – he either destroys it with an overpowered Incendio, or he pulls out a quill, and without even looking at me, he waves me off without a word and spends the next couple of hours alone in his study.”  
She did not add that he sometimes shouted loudly enough to be heard in the next room. Most commonly 'that's absurd!' or 'he could not possibly think that!'

“I see. So you and Gellert are –“  
Vinda rolled her eyes. “No. I am not _his type_ , Professor. As I believe you know.”  
“I’m not sure that you want to suggest -”

“Your response to his criticisms – or to his handwriting, perhaps? - is indeed _suggestive_. And the speed with which you responded to the mere mention of his middle name - a name that is really not all that uncommon... No, I already knew of his interests, let us say, but I had only guessed about your _particular history_ together before arriving at Hogwarts. Now, however, I believe I have reason to be certain.”

“And what do you want me to do about this?" Albus burst out in frustration. "He has chosen not to contact me all these years –“  
“And I imagine that you have chosen not to contact him? Have you been waiting for him to write to you, then? Perhaps you would have answered?”  
Albus was silent.

“Would it be wrong to suggest that he _has_ been writing messages to you - for years?” Vinda asked, gesturing at the journals. “He simply has not sent them.”  
Albus opened another journal. “He says on this page that I am an idiot, and here that I am delusional, and –“  
“And when you were together, did he say such things to you? And you to him?”  
Albus was silent again.

Vinda shook her head and pulled out her wand to shrink the journals.  
Albus laid his hand on them possessively. “Can I – make a copy before you go?”  
Vinda smiled. He _was_ interested. Good.  
“That is not necessary. These are themselves copies. I never would have dared take Gellert's journals, even for an afternoon. If he discovered their absence, there might be nothing of me left to identify.” 

Vinda smiled serenely, and Albus looked somehow both uncomfortable and – aroused? at the idea of Vinda being reduced to ash. Honestly, Gellert could not ask for a better partner. But that was far more than she could achieve in one day.

“You may keep them, but only if you take this,” she answered, handing him a card.  
“This is the address of a secure mail drop that Gellert uses for private correspondence. I would like for you to send him your journal articles directly – perhaps before you submit them to a journal, or perhaps when they have already been accepted for publication but are not yet published. With an invitation for him to share his remarks. _Without reference to me_ , you understand. Something about how you miss your friendly debates, or you realize that you think better with an interlocutor and you never had one superior to him, etc.  
“I am not asking for reconciliation, Professor Dumbledore. I am asking for an end to me being used, frankly, in a way that would bore a house elf. There are better ways for me to use my time than to be going always to the bookstore.”

“There is no better use of time –“  
“Than to go to the bookstore. Yes. You are meant for each other, clearly.”

Albus bit his lip thoughtfully and ran his hand through his hair, then quickly recovered. There was even more emotion still there than she could have guessed. And the time Gellert spent with each of Albus' articles... What could have kept them apart when they both clearly had such strong feelings for one another still?

Albus looked from the journals back at Vinda.  
“I apologize. I never offered you tea. That was rude of me.”  
“That’s quite alright, Professor, I cannot stay in any case.”  
“Albus,” he said, absently. “Call me Albus.”  
“Albus,” she said smiling, and she stood. “Then you must call me Vinda – when we see each other next.”

Vinda saw herself out and walked to the apparition point. It was a relief to know that Gellert's feelings were reciprocated. Now that he had the evidence of Gellert’s continued interest, it seemed likely that Albus would write. Then perhaps she could move on to doing something actually useful for the revolution.  
But not today. Today was the day that the latest issue of _Revue de la littérature magique_ was being released, and she was on her way to the bookstore.


End file.
